Promise: Caulborn #2

by Nicholas Olivo

  I froze as I rolled over and surveyed the scene. Megan was on the ground, blood running from her forehead. A gold brick lay a few inches from her, one of its corners coated in red. My mouth went dry. If Megan didn’t come through this “fine,” Orcus would haul me down to Tartarus and I’d never come back. Herb threw himself between the creature and Megan, his fists raised. He renewed his invocation, his voice angry, the translucent characters pulsating with a hateful scarlet light.

  I’d taken the creature as some sort of zombie at first, but now, with the added light from Herb’s glowing spell, I could see the creature had the glowing red eyes of a wight. Lovely.

  Without giving it a chance to adapt to its surroundings, I sent two fireballs Liu Kang style, one high, one low. The first staggered the wight back, and the second took its legs out from under it. I cast holy light, illuminating the chamber in pale blue.

  Cather joined the fray, striding up to the undead and delivering a solid left hook. The creature’s head rocked, and it fell to the ground, but was back on its feet a moment later, slicing out at Cather with black nails as sharp as razors. Cather casually blocked with his left forearm, and while the wight’s attack shredded the sleeve of his pajamas, it rebounded off Cather’s skin. Even in human form, Cather’s flesh was as tough as dragon scales. He grabbed a fistful of the wight’s shirt in one hand and hoisted the undead three feet off the ground.

  “Mr. Wallenby,” Cather said as the wight flailed in his grasp. “I would most appreciate it if you would banish this vile thing. I grow bored of playing with it.” Cather flung it against the far wall. The wight hit so hard that fine cracks appeared in the brick. It slid to the ground, dazed, but was already shaking the staggering blow off when Herb moved up next to me.

  Herb’s chanting was faster now, more frenetic. Thin lines of sweat streamed down his pudgy face as glowing red characters leapt into being around us. The wight snarled and charged toward us. Herb yelled out a final syllable and the chain of characters turned green. They shot forward like an arrow and bored through the wight’s torso. It stood there, staring at the six-inch hole where its midsection had been, before turning confused glowing red eyes on us. It staggered two steps forward and then collapsed into a pile of ash.

  Cather applauded. “Well done, Mr. Wallenby, well done. I must say that you banish as effectively as the old Puritans did when they first came to the New World.”

  “You’re not that old, Cather,” I said as I moved over to Megan.

  “But I’ve heard stories, Vincent, old friend. Stories that simply prove that the Yankee stock our good Mr. Wallenby comes from is stronger than any undead menace.”

  Herb wasn’t paying attention to Cather; he was helping Megan sit up. I knelt next to her on the other side and gently brushed her hair from the bloody gash on her forehead. I pulled out my bandana and held it against the wound. “It’s not deep,” I said, relief flooding through me.

  Herb nodded. “Head wounds are such a bugger because they bleed so much. Megan got grazed by a brick when the wight landed. She was lucky.”

  So was I. “Let’s get her back to Caulborn HQ. Doc Ryan can check her out.”

  “Will you two stop talking about me like I’m not here?” Megan said, a faint hint of irritation in her voice. “I am fine and completely capable of taking care of myself.” She stood, too quickly and swayed. Herb caught her. “All righty,” she said as she leaned into the necromancer, “maybe a trip to see Doc Ryan isn’t such a bad idea after all.”

  “Splendid,” Cather said. “I’m certain Vincent can escort you back to your physician, Ms. Hayes. Meantime, Mr. Wallenby, it would be positively smashing if you would remain for a bit longer and exorcise a few other problematic ghosts for me.” He regarded the ruined sleeve of his pajamas. “And I do believe I will need to place a call to my tailor.” He shook his head ruefully. “This is a dreadful occurrence indeed.”

  Megan and Herb said some puppy-dog-eyed goodbyes and I took her back to HQ. We nodded to Jake and went straight to Medical. Doc Ryan was sitting at his desk, leafing through pages in a folder. The man’s white hair was combed in a perfect pompadour, and his leathery brow crinkled when he saw Megan. He hustled over to her, peeled back her bandage, and pursed his lips at what he saw.

  “What happened?” he asked.

  “I got hit in the head with a gold bar,” Megan replied.

  Doc looked at me. “Is she hallucinating?”

  “No, that’s what happened.” I gave him a quick overview of our encounter at Cather’s place.

  He just shook his head as he cleaned and bandaged Megan’s wound. “I’ll need you to stay down here for a bit so I can make sure you don’t have a concussion,” he said to Megan.

  He pointed to me as he pulled a pack of Marlboros from the breast pocket of his white lab coat. “Meantime, Corinthos,” he said as he put a cigarette to his lips, “I think the two of you will want to see this.” As he lit up, we followed him into an examination room and over to a lab table. Some dirt was spread on a piece of paper, and a bright light shone down upon it. “This is the soil you brought in last night. Mrs. Rita worked on it all night long; you just missed her.”

  “Did she find anything?”

  Doc’s eyebrows went up. “Oh, yeah.” He switched off the light. “Watch this.” He gestured to the monitor. “Gearstripper just finished modifying some of our microscopic imaging equipment; now it’s got a lens that rivals the friggin’ Hubble telescope.” The screen shimmered and focused a few times as the magnification increased again and again. Onscreen, the tiny specks of dirt suddenly seemed like boulders from the Grand Canyon. A few moments later, the surface of the dirt began to bulge like something was moving beneath it. Then a sickly white worm wriggled onto the dirt. The thing was so tiny that I couldn’t see it on the soil sample just a few feet from me. On the monitor, it looked like a rancid garden hose. “This little critter can’t stand sunlight,” Doc said as he switched the UV lamp back on and the worm scrambled back beneath the soil.

  “What are they?” Megan asked.

  “Not sure yet. Never seen anything like it before. Best Mrs. Rita and I have been able to tell, they eat bones. Well, my guess is that they’ll eat any organic matter with a high concentration of calcium, but there were some bone shards in that sample you brought in and these things went to town on them. I’ve got some calls out to the guys in Dublin, but nothing’s come back yet.” The head Caulborn office was in Dublin, and it was incredibly rare for the team over there not to have heard of something. Of course, when they hadn’t, it usually meant that something was incredibly bad. “Mrs. Rita did note that they have a faint magical aura to them. She thinks they might have been conjured.”

  “Okay, so I’ve got a guy who attacks corpses and conjures worms onto their bones.” I shook my head. “Jesus, this is just out there, Doc. Even for us.”

  He nodded. “You kids find the craziest shit, that’s for damned sure. I’ll keep you posted on what we hear from Dublin. Friggin’ time zones make doing business with them a real pain in the ass sometimes.” He took a drag on his cig and let the smoke out through his nostrils. “I’ll let you know when I hear something. Megan, you sit tight for a bit.”

  As Doc went back to his work, I went up to my office and thumbed through a folder that’d been left on my desk. It was a set of notes from Mrs. Rita describing what she and Doc Ryan had learned so far about the worms.

  I let my eyes run down the pages and turned them over without really reading them. This was how I’d gotten through school; I’d look at all the pages in my textbooks and then Glimpse them when it came time for tests. That done, I tried to actually read a couple of pages, but my mind kept drifting back to the Keepers. I pulled out Laras’s card and rubbed it between my thumb and forefinger. Could they help with my promise to Megan?

  “You all right, Vincent?”

  I jumped in my chair and banged into my desk. The Obi-Wan Kenobi and Darth Vader action figures carefully perched atop m
y monitor tumbled onto my keyboard. I spun to see Megan standing in the doorway, a hand over her mouth as if to stifle a giggle. A narrow bandage stretched across her forehead. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  “All good,” I said, rubbing my face. “You done already? That was fast.”

  She cocked her head and looked at me. “It’s been close to two hours since we got back, Vincent.”

  I glanced at my Timex. So it had. “Time flies,” I said. “You okay?”

  “Just fine,” she replied.

  “Good to hear.” In truth, she had no idea how relieved I was to hear her say that. I genuinely was glad that she was all right. Megan’s a great person and I’d come to admire and respect her quite a bit over the last few months. But there was another part of me that constantly lived in fear of that friggin’ promise. I wasn’t sure how literal Orcus would be on this. If I asked Megan how she was and she said lousy, would I be condemned to Tartarus right then and there? I didn’t want to find out.

  “Doc Ryan told me that Mrs. Rita had given you a folder full of information.” I nodded and held it up. “Good. He also said she was running some more tests and might have some better information to us in a day or so.” Megan looked down at her shoes and scuffed one on the floor.

  “Something on your mind, Meg?”

  “It’s just, well, we don’t have any leads about our grave robber, and the next bit of info won’t come for at least twenty-four hours. So is it okay with you if I don’t stakeout a graveyard with you tonight? I’ll definitely be available on my cell if you need me.”

  “Right, your dinner with Herb. No worries.”

  She beamed at me, her eyes sparkling and her dimple deepening. “Thanks, Vincent. You’re the best partner ever.” She gave me a little wave and disappeared from my door.

  Right until she said those last few words, I’d been working myself up to tell her about the promise. I’d have explained things calmly and been able to tell her that I did care about her, and that I wasn’t asking her to release me from that promise because I was going to slack off. But when she said that, something locked up inside me. The best partner ever wouldn’t ask to be released from a promise. The best partner ever would find a way to make good on that promise.

  I turned the Keeper’s card over in my hands a few times. Then I logged into the Caulborn’s main database and spent the next three hours trying to dig up anything about the Keepers. Nothing. If they had done anything wrong, even if the details were classified, I would’ve gotten some results, but every search I ran gave me the same message: “No Results Returned.” I looked at the card for a long while before I decided I wasn’t doing any good just sitting at my desk. I logged off from my computer, grabbed my bomber, and caught the T home.

  I got back to the apartment and walked into a rolling refrigerator. The thing looked like a giant white coffin. When I popped the lid, I found four racks of lamb and a few other cuts of meat. A second unit sat next to that. “Hey, love,” Petra said, gliding into the room. Tonight she wore her “Bring Back Firefly” T-shirt and a pair of white sweatpants. She gave me a hug and then turned to the counter, where a series of color-coded index cards was taped to the cabinets.

  “Hey, babe,” I said back. “What’s all this?”

  “It’s for when my mother comes. I need to practice the recipes,” she gestured to the index cards. “I’ve got the appetizers,” she pointed at the red cards, “the sides,” the blue cards, “the main dish,” green cards, “and desserts.” The yellow cards. “I had to rent these roll-away fridges to keep everything fresh.”

  “Hon, you’re the best cook I’ve ever met. You don’t need to put yourself through this.”

  She turned to me. “Everything has to be perfect, Vincent. The last thing I want is to listen to her whinge on about how fantastic my half-sister was.”

  “She’s going to compare you to Galatia, regardless, Petra. She always does. C’mon, let’s just chill out and watch Doctor Who. That’ll be a lot more fun.”

  She shook her head. “Can’t do it, love. I need to make sure I can do these recipes in my sleep.”

  Maybe I was frustrated by my inability to square things with Megan, but I couldn’t stand by and let Petra do this to herself. I took her by the shoulders and looked her square in the eye. “Petra, repeat after me. ‘I am an outstanding cook.’” She gave me an exasperated sigh and tried to pull away, but I held fast. If she really wanted to escape my grip, she could easily break my arms. “I am an outstanding cook,” I repeated. “C’mon, say it.”

  “I am an outstanding cook,” she said flatly.

  I frowned at her. “Like you mean it. You trained with chefs in France. You were in Italy when cannoli was invented. ‘I am an outstanding cook.’”

  “I am an outstanding cook.” Her voice was firmer this time.

  “And who here has had personal correspondence with Wolfgang Puck? Who here has guest starred on Emeril’s show? And not only guest starred, but taught him a thing or two about ghost peppers? ‘I am an outstanding cook.’”

  “I am an outstanding cook.” She almost sounded like she meant it.

  “And who here received a chocolate cake recipe from Quetzacoatl, the god of chocolate himself? A cake that, once baked, was so appealing that a living zodiac symbol actually came down to our plane of existence and tried to steal it? ‘I am an outstanding cook.’”

  “I am an outstanding cook.” As she said it, her eyes widened. “I am an outstanding cook. I am.” She gave a short laugh. “I really am.”

  “Damn right you are, Petra. And if your mother doesn’t like what you cook, then she’s got no taste and she can stuff it.”

  “She can stuff it. She can stuff it. Oh, yes.” Petra clenched her jaw and punched a fist into the air. “She can stuff it,” she hissed.

  Wow. Little bit of pent up anger there. I took her hand and pulled her toward the living room. “C’mon, let’s fire up Doctor Who and watch that Agatha Christie episode. The detox scene is hilarious.”

  “No,” Petra said, pulling me hard enough to make me crash against her. She picked me up and carried me toward the bedroom. Her dark eyes smoldered and her voice was husky.” I have a better idea,” she whispered.

  And what a much, much better idea it was. Half an hour later, with Petra cuddled against me, I drifted off into what should’ve been a restful night’s sleep.

  So, of course, it got ruined by nightmares.

  Chapter 4

  Bargain 1987763 Addendum A – The dragon has been withholding funds from his promised 33% payments. Should he fail to comply with the terms of the bargain, I will be forced to mark it as nullified. In preparation for this, I have dispatched sycophants with the silkworms obtained from Bargain 665945 in order to obtain materials that will withstand the dragon’s paranormal abilities. Three specimens of suitable nature were successfully obtained, despite an encounter with local Caulborn agents. We will commence the weaving process shortly.

  —From Keeper Laras’s Transaction Journal

  In the dream, a giant beast the size of a car was trying to eat me. Its glowing red eyes locked onto me, and it fired twin laser beams from its eyes straight into my chest. I rolled away in that slow motion dream way and ran. A wall of mist materialized in front of me, and human forms with glowing red eyes reached for me from the mist. Their fingers ended in razor-sharp black nails. One grabbed me by the throat and—

  I woke with a jolt and slid my hand through the sheets looking for Petra. Her side of the bed was warm but unoccupied. I found her in the kitchen, her hands opening and closing at her sides as she looked at all the index cards taped to the cabinets.

  “She can stuff it,” Petra whispered. She sounded like she was trying to convince herself.

  “Love?” I asked. “You okay?”

  She jolted and turned to face me. “Morning,” she said finally. “I’m fine. I just realized that even if she can stuff it, I still want to make a good meal. The
re are a couple of things I need to pick up this morning.”

  I put my hands on her shoulders. “You’re going to be great, Petra. Whatever you make will be awesome.”

  “I know,” she said. Her eyes flicked back to the cards. “I am an outstanding cook.” She giggled, but it sounded forced. I gave her a hug. She leaned into me and sighed. “Honestly, though, I did burn through a lot of ingredients practicing the other night.” She headed for the door.

  “Hon,” I said, “don’t forget your coat.” Petra wouldn’t feel the cold if she didn’t want to, but people might talk if they saw a supermodel walking around in twenty-degree weather in just a “Joss Whedon is my Master Now” T-shirt.

  She gave an embarrassed smile, grabbed her coat, and gave me a quick peck on the cheek. I rubbed my face. Petra had work to do, and so did I. She’d taken the first step last night toward banishing a particular demon of her own, so I figured it was time I took care of the sword that was hanging over my head.

  I walked back to the bedroom, leaned on the dresser, and looked at my Commander Courageous action figure. “All right, you know I’m on the hook for a promise with Orcus, and there’s no way I can keep that promise.” I ran my hands over my face. “What’s the story with these Keeper guys? Are they on the level? Can I trust them to take the promise on and see it fulfilled?”

  Courageous stared back at me, his plastic eyes showing no hint of life. “Come on,” I said. “You pop in and announce that you’ve arranged training for me, but you won’t answer when I have questions?” The fixed “I’m a hero, dammit,” expression never waivered. “Fine,” I said, disgusted. I did a quick mental check-in with my followers. Thankfully, everything seemed quiet on the Bright Side. I blessed them as I heard their prayers, then left my apartment and hopped on the T.